Dear Hermione
by AbRaCaDaBrA
Summary: There comes a time in every girl's life, whether magical or Muggle, when she must examine herself, find her place in the world around her, and fall in love. This is Hermione's story. Begins VK/HG, and ends...well, you'll have to read to find out. CH4 UP!
1. The Letter

Dear Hermione,

Perhaps I am writing too soon, but I would dearly love to see you again this summer, and I want to write before the memories we had at Hogwarts start fading. For your parents, I live in a large house just outside of Pleven, and my own mother and father would love to have you over. I miss you already, and dearly await Sofia's return with your reply. 

Yours Sincerely,

Viktor Krum

The barn owl made a funny chirruping noise and looked at Hermione pleadingly, as if her and Viktor's black eyes were the same.

"Wow," said Hermione simply, and she looked down at the parchment again.

She was sitting in her room, on top of her favourite blue-grey comforter, with her Hogwarts trunk at the foot of the bed, half unpacked. She was in the process of straightening out and hanging up her work roves when the unfamiliar, white-faced owl had tapped at her window. Cautiously, she let her in and opened the letter warily, remembering previous bad experiences in strange owl posts, and felt such a mix of emotions at its message that she could only sit down and say one word.

"Wow," she repeated, working through her feelings one emotion at a time. Worry – what if Bulgaria was terrible, what if Viktor and she had an argument? Confusion – he still wanted to see her, even after the whole Triwizard Tournament thing was over? Amusement – he could write her name, but he still couldn't pronounce it. And then, dread – what would her parents think?

On one hand, when she had told her parents on the long trip from London to Devon all about Viktor and the Yule Ball, they seemed very pleased and impressed by the dark-haired young man. On the other hand, her father nearly ran the auto into a ditch when she told him about the Third Task and its unfortunate end. She was pretty sure her parents would not support a cross-continent journey. 

Hermione thought about the situation carefully, and decided that what she needed was a calm, rational mind; someone just like her parents – but not quite.

"Antigone!" she said loudly, almost a call. She stood up quickly and left her room, leaving Sofia to ruffle her feathers and make herself a nice perch out of the desk lamp.

+X+

Hermione knocked on her older sister's door. "Antigone?"

"Is that Glinda?" said a voice on the other side, like Hermione's but a little lower and huskier. Without waiting for a reply, the door opened from the inside and the source of the voice appeared.

Hermione and Antigone were in general appearance and basic attitude, very alike. But their five years age difference and of course the magical-Muggle distinction made them two very different entities. Antigone would have Hermione's bushy hair if she let it grow, but she had cut it boyishly short. Three holes were in each of her ears and she usually wore a lot of dark eyeliner and black clothes, but as she was visiting home from college, she wore a nude face and oversized fluffy red sweater. 

"You just love calling me 'Glinda', don't you?" asked Hermione jokingly. It was a nickname instantly granted to the younger when the elder heard about her magical abilities.

"Better that than 'Wicked Witch of the West'," replied Antigone simply. She sat down in one of her yellow velvet armchairs and indicated for Hermione to sit in the other. "What can I do for you?"

Hermione handed the parchment to her and leaned back into the comfy chair. She noticed Elastica playing softly on Antigone's purple stereo, and then remembered previous experiences in trying to show her sister magical papers. "Can you read it?" she asked cautiously. Antigone nodded and looked up at her younger sister with a calculated, amused look.

"Does Mistress Hermione have a gentleman suitor?" said Antigone in a mockingly high falsetto.

Hermione just grimaced and smiled, shaking her head. "I bet you know what the question I have is."

"Yes," replied Antigone stolidly. "Is Bulgaria still Communist?"

"Ha ha. You should know it hasn't been for a few years now."

"Of course I know that. Your actual problem is getting Mum and Dad to agree, right?"

Hermione made a face and nodded as Antigone read the letter a second time. Finally, she spoke. "Do you want the good news or the bad news?"

"Both."

"This guy has fallen for you," admitted Antigone. "That's the good news. The bad news is that there is absolutely no way that they're going to let you go to Bulgaria to visit him. Remember when I wanted to just spend the weekend at that Welsh fellow's house when I was sixteen? Mum looked about ready to drop a litter of kittens right there in the dining room."

Hermione remembered that dinner vividly. "Then she gave you 'The Talk' right there in the middle of the asparagus, right?"

"Right." Antigone rolled her eyes. "Basically, I rest my case." She handed the letter back to Hermione. 

"Maybe if you came with me?" suggested Hermione, trying to sound off-hand.

"Nice try, 'Mione, but I'm taking a week-long home break and then I'm going to Carnac with Claire and Denise."

Hermione started to scowl, but then her face turned into one of thought. "D'you think Mum and Dad would let him stay in your room?"

Antigone coughed. "Sorry, but I'm not letting any guy within a fifty-foot radius of my room, save perhaps Dad. And even then only when I'm feeling really good."

Looking quickly around her sister's room painted in shades of purple and black, and undecorated save for two paintings of Lilith and Circe, Hermione decided it would probably be in Viktor's best interest to stay home in Bulgaria. 

"Well, now I'm stuck. I want to see him, but I can't go to Bulgaria and he can't come to England. Unless…." Hermione thought quickly. "You know, he's been of age for a while. When you get old enough, you can get a permit to Apparate, and then you can instantly transport yourself wherever you want to go…." She bit her lip. "But it's probably too far between Pleven and Devon."

"You know you're just talking out loud to yourself, right?" interrupted Antigone. Suddenly, she had an idea. "Say, what if this Viktor fellow finds some way to get here for a day or two? Torquay's got lots of hotels and stuff he can stay in."

"Oh! That's it!" replied Hermione, getting out of the squishy chair. "I've got Ron's Quidditch schedule, he's bound to be playing in England sometime. Thanks, Tiggy!" She left the room happily.

"Does she ever even listen to me anymore?" asked Antigone to no one in particular.

+X+

"Hullo again, Sofia," greeted Hermione. The owl blinked slowly at her as the witch moved boxes of papers labelled with various Hogwarts class names until she found one neatly labelled "Other". She slid out the thick stack of parchment from the box, all of the letters, notes, and various scraps of paper she had received or penned in the past four years. She only had to go through three letters from Harry before finding Ron's hand-written summer Quidditch schedule. With a Muggle pencil, feeling rather odd in her hand, she circled all of the Vratsa Vultures' games, counting three. She started from the bottom.

Away against the Patonga Proudsticks, August 25. No good, that was in Africa. August 4, home against the Ballycastle Bats. Ballycastle was in Northern Ireland, which was far enough already, but they would be in Bulgaria anyway. Falmouth Falcons, away, July 7. Her heart gave a little jump. 

The seventh – that was in four days. Viktor would be in Falmouth, where even if he didn't have an Apparation license, he could easily take a train or bus to Torquay. The most it could possibly take was an hour and a half. He could come over, meet her parents, and then they could go to the Harbourside, visit Meadfoot beach, eat at Simius or No. 7, or maybe catch something at the Princess Theatre or Central Cinema. Torquay was a resort town, and now that Hermione had an out of town visitor – not to mention date – it felt like the whole town was open to her. 

+X+

"Let me see the letter," Mrs. Granger said simply, and Hermione grudgingly divulged the parchment from her pocket. Her mother read it once and handed it back to her. At first, Hermione thought she would say something embarrassing along the lines of "Don't you think this Viktor is being a bit headstrong?" but to Hermione's surprise, she asked a more personal question.

"How does this Viktor make you feel, Hermione?" asked her mother gently as her father brought a plate of potatoes to the table. 

A good question. Hermione thought about Viktor – his black eyes, his heavy brows, his dark face, and his thick accent. Then she thought of his World Cup Quidditch skills, and of the way he tackled the dragon and attempted the Transfiguration in the Tournament. Finally, she thought of the gentlemanly way he acted around Harry and her friends, even when the rumours were flying, and how he would sit in the library every day trying to find a way to ask her to the Yule Ball. Finally, she spoke.

"Viktor makes me feel like a wonderful person. He's the kind of person that you can talk and talk to, and he listens – and understands, too. He appreciates my intelligence and respects my friends, and he actually makes me feel like a girl."

"Not to interrupt your lovely speech, 'Mione," said Antigone kindly, sliding open the door and joining the family on the back porch, "but any male shouldn't be the reason you feel female."

"Always the feminist, huh, Tiggy?" asked her father with a smile, sitting down at the table. 

"What I mean is that, well, when I'm with Harry and Ron, we're just…we don't think about gender, really. And I try talking to the other girls in my dorm about boys and stuff, but sometimes they get so shallow I can't stand it. Viktor makes me feel…." She cast about for words. "I've never felt the way I do with Viktor around anyone else."

"I understand," said another female voice at the table, and Hermione, Mr. Granger, and Antigone were surprised to see Mrs. Granger nodding. "Look, Tony," she said, speaking to her husband, "she's not a little girl anymore. I was just two years older than he when we began dating, and you know I saw other guys before you."

Mr. Granger nodded. "Agreed." He thought for a minute, and then spoke. "Hermione, you can tell this Viktor to come into Torquay on Saturday morning, and you two can mill about in Harbourside and Town Centre, and then walk home for supper. How does that sound?"

Hermione broke into a huge grin, and in her excitement, she slid out of her chair and hugged her father and mother furiously before running inside.

"You can write the letter after dinner!" called Mr. Granger loudly, but she was gone. Mrs. Granger patted him on the arm lovingly, and Antigone just laughed. 

+X+

Dear Viktor,

Good news and bad news – bad news first. My parents won't let me go to Bulgaria. But, the good news is that, if this Quidditch schedule is right, you're going to be in Falmouth on July seventh. I live pretty close, in a city called Torquay. How about on Saturday the eighth (assuming the game's shorter than a day) you come over? I don't know if you can Apparate yet, but it's a pretty short ride by Muggle transportation between if not. Since Sofia's got a lot of travelling to do, how about you reply only if you can't make it? I hope to see you then.

Hermione Granger

P.S. Wear Muggle clothes.


	2. The Date

Dear Hermione,

I'm so happy for you! I really hope the Vultures vs. Falcons game is short, with, of course, a win for Bulgaria. The birds of prey, huh? Well, I hope you two have fun – Torquay sounds like a great place for hanging around. Maybe if the wardens let me out of the house for a blessed weekend I can visit you. You wouldn't believe it, but the school Dudley went to made him stick to that diet of his. Now he's only twice my size, and Aunt Petunia is going mad with trying to restore him to his former shape. Somewhat scary. Anyway, write me back after the visit and tell me how everything went.

Yours truly,

Harry Potter

+X+

It was Saturday morning, and unless a chimera ate Sofia, Viktor was coming. Hermione was petting Crookshanks nervously while trying to regain some of her sensibility. Realising she was getting her shirt furry and orange, she gingerly put him down and started to de-fur herself with a piece of tape.

Antigone stuck her head into the room. "How are you doing, 'Mione?"

"I honestly don't know," admitted Hermione, checking herself in the mirror. She had managed to get her hair into a puffy ponytail, and was wearing a blue and white-striped shirt, khaki shorts, and brown sandals. Sensible and calm, just like she felt inside. The doorbell ran and she jumped, making Antigone laugh. "Okay, I'm nervous as when I get finals back. Maybe more."

Antigone stepped into the room, put a hand on her sister's shoulder, and gently guided her out of the room. "You look fine, you're going to have a good time. You know each other already, and that's the hardest part."

They walked down the stairs to the front hall where Mr. and Mrs. Granger were waiting and, judging from the silhouette on the door curtains, Viktor Krum stood outside.

"Wait a minute," said Antigone. "Do you think we could fool him into thinking I'm you?" She had her short hair spiked out all around her head, with heavy green eye shadow and a torn black shirt on, but Hermione and she were still the same height and body type. 

Before Hermione had a chance to protest, Antigone opened the door quickly and with a great flourish shouted, "HULLO, VEEKTORR!"

The stupefied, shocked, and slightly fish-eyed expression on the Bulgarian teen's dark face caused the entire Granger family to break out laughing, even the impostor's impostee.

Hermione ran in front of Antigone and plucked the yellow flowers from Viktor's paralysed fingers. "I'm sorry, Viktor," she apologised, still laughing. "Come in."

He blinked and shook his head, following her into the hall. Antigone shut the door behind him.

"What was that for?" Hermione asked Antigone.

"I just got all the awkwardness out of your systems," she replied.

"I think you got something else out of my system," returned Viktor in his accent. "It's loffly to see you again, Hermy-ne."

Hermione giggled uncharacteristically at the improved pronunciation and averted her eyes to the flowers. "These are really pretty. How did you get here?"

"I Apparated here," he answered simply, "and then I asked a please-man vere I could find your home, and he showed me a book of numbers, and I look you up and then ask directions. I came here, and get qvite a shock."

"Let me take those," said Antigone, indicating the flowers. Hermione handed them over and then noticed that Viktor was wearing cutoff denim shorts, hiking boots, and a bulky grey sweater. "Are you hot?" asked Hermione.

"I'm actually pretty varm, but these are the only Muggle clothes I haff."

"I can lend you a shirt," offered Mr. Granger, sizing him up.

"That vould be loffly," replied Viktor, nodding.

"Here, let's stop standing around," interjected Mrs. Granger, and she made Hermione and Viktor relocate to the living room couches. "Tea?" she asked, going to the kitchen.

"No, thanks," Viktor and Hermione said in unison, and then they were alone. 

Hermione was silent for a while, and then she thought of something to say. "How did the game go?"

"Vell, it vosn't easy, but ve managed to get a 220-180 vin."

"Oh, that's great!" said Hermione earnestly.

"Yes, but I've got Bludger marks to proff it," he replied, rolling up his left sleeve to reveal a huge, circular, purple bruise on his upper shoulder, causing Hermione to gasp.

"That must have hurt!" she commented admirably.

"The broken bone vos vurse, but the Medivizards fissed that in two seconds. This appeared later." 

He was letting down his sleeve when Antigone returned with the flowers in a vase. "Showing Glinda the guns?" she asked, joking, but Viktor only looked at her in puzzlement as she placed the vase on the end table.

She sat down on the loveseat just as Mrs. Granger appeared with three cups of tea and Mr. Granger a large white t-shirt. "The bathroom's just down the hall and to the right," he instructed, handing Viktor the shirt. The teen stood up and shambled down the hall, out of sight.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Mrs. Granger picked up a tea from the tray and said, "Tall, dark, and handsome, hm, Hermione?"

"Mum." She rolled her eyes and smiled.

"I loff that accent," added Antigone, cutely imitating Viktor's speech.

"He looks like a respectable young man to have as a boyfriend," finished Mr. Granger, and Hermione attempted to hide her red face in one of the throw pillows.

"Eef nod ay bwuffund," argued Hermione into the cushion.

"What was that?" asked Antigone.

"He's not my boyf–" She stopped short. Viktor was back, and looking funnily charming in an old Beatles concert T-shirt from Mr. Granger's younger days. There was a tense silence for a few seconds, and then Hermione said quickly, "We'll be off, then?"

Her parents and Antigone followed them to the hall, and waved them goodbye. They began walking to the centre of town, and as soon as Hermione's big white house was out of vision, Viktor breathed an obvious sigh of relief.

"Your parents vere giving me the Inquisition. No offence, off course."

"None taken. Sometimes they get a little jumpy whenever I do something new. Odd, considering Antigone's done practically everything Muggle I can think of, and Mum doesn't make a fuss." She thought about it for a moment. "Or else that's where her patch of grey hair came from."

"You're sure it vosn't the fact that I'm an off-age vizard now?"

Hermione stopped. The thought of her being with an of-age wizard suddenly processed, even though she had known he had an Apparation license. She realised that he had his wand with him – and he could actually use it. The thought both excited and confused her.

Suddenly, she realised she was walking on a date, in full sunlight, less than a black away from her home. She regained her senses and picked up the question where it had been left off.

"I'm sure that wasn't the thing. After all, you're my first…date."

Viktor nodded, saying nothing. Hermione looked carefully at his broody-looking features, trying to read his thoughts. Finally, she asked him, "What are you thinking about?"

"I'm not sure. I think I'm thinking about Hogvarts, but then I realisse I'm just thinking about you."

Hermione smiled blandly. His words were as sweet as sugar quills, but somehow made Hermione thin they were just as airy. She figured that it must have been the absence of such lines in her life before that made them seem so hollow. She let Viktor tell her all about yesterday's Quidditch game, and soon the busy centre of town appeared before them. 

Viktor was amazed and cutely distracted by the Muggle-ness of Torquay. He was especially impressed by the street signs and the busy beaches on the shore of the Channel. At first, Hermione was wary of his barely concealed wonder at the sight of a parking meter, but she realised that his slightly piecemeal outfit and quite obviously un-British features would mark him as a tourist, which Torquay was quite used to.

They had walked around most of Town Centre and some of Harbourside when they both agreed to get something to eat for lunch. 

"Vat are good restaurants?" asked Viktor, pausing with Hermione at a crosswalk.

"No. 7's pretty good, but I'm not in the mood for fish." They passed The Hole in the Wall at Park Lane, which Hermione briefly considered, but Viktor politely informed her that he didn't like French much. Hermione then remember the Italian pizzeria, and Viktor either liked Italian, or was too hungry to protest.

"Here it is," said Hermione after a while, and she led Viktor into a dark restaurant named, simply and oddly, Simius.

They sat down at a table, their eyes adjusting to the dim light. The good-looking waiter that came over was about Hermione's age, and looked at her quickly and surprisingly discerningly as he handed them two menus. 

"Um, Hermy-ne," said Viktor nervously before he opened the menu.

"Yes?" replied Hermione, afraid she had done something wrong.

"I, um, don't haff any Muggle money," he whispered. "I should haff told you before."

"Don't worry about it!" replied Hermione, relieved. "This is my treat." If there was one thing Antigone had taught her, it was that the cost of a date was either 50/50 or whoever had set it up, not always the man's responsibility. Hermione had come prepared. 

Viktor had decided on ravioli as Hermione ordered two slices of white. The waiter looked at her funnily again, and was looking oddly at their table after giving the orders to the kitchen, before noticing Hermione's returned looks. 

Viktor, however, never noticed the looks, and for a wild split second, Hermione thought that they recognised him from Quidditch. After about five minutes, Viktor shifted uneasily in his seat. "There's only von good thing about vaiting for Muggle food," he said cryptically.

"What's that?" asked Hermione, absently watching the candle flame reflected in Viktor's eyes. 

"The vay ve can just enjoy each other's company before the food arriffs." He smiled a true, toothy grin that turned his scowling, dark features into a full-wattage handsome face. Hermione felt just like one of the ditzy schoolgirls that formed Viktor's fan club at school and realised that he was practically her own for the day. She returned the smile and nearly stood on her chair and did a somersault when he gently held her hand in his.

"Have you started calling him 'Vicky' yet?" Ron's annoyed face suddenly swam into Hermione's mind. Her rapidly melting, love-struck brain suddenly snapped back to attention. Look at her! Fawning over a guy who just threw compliments? What was wrong with her? She took her hand away from Viktor's, acted as if she had an itch on her nose, and then excused herself to go to the bathroom, her head practically spinning with the rush of emotions going through her mind. 

She splashed cold water on her face and looked at herself carefully in the mirror. Ron's voice acted up in her mind again. "You're – you're fraternising with the enemy!"

"Oh, be quiet. You're just jealous," said Hermione, out loud and confident. She dried her face, collected her thoughts, and made her way back to the table. Fortunately for her sanity, and stomach, the food was ready. She and Viktor ate without a word.

+X+

Dear Ron,

I don't know if Hermione's told you or not, but she's going on a date with Krum on Saturday. It's so weird to think about, isn't it? I thought she would never find a guy, but there we are, she's dating already. She's supposed to write me back afterwards to tell me how everything went. I'll tell you the basics if you promise not to tell her I told you, okay?

Well, I have to go. I'll talk to you later – write me back.

Harry Potter

PS How was the Harpies vs. Cannons game?


	3. The Night

Dear Hermione,

You're dating Krum now? How do you manage that one? Are you planning on spending a week at his house or something? Hermione, why don't you date someone you know better? I don't really know how to say it, but I just wanted to warn you that there's something fishy about Krum. Be careful with him.

Ron

+X+

The waiter returned with her change, and she put most of it on the table as a tip. As Viktor looked excitedly at the currency, the waiter finally talked to Hermione.

"You're Granger…Hermione Granger, right?" he asked cautiously. 

She nodded slowly. "Do I know you?"

"It's Joshua Clarks, remember? Torquay Primary?" He extended his hand.

"Oh!" replied Hermione, shaking his hand. "Oh, yes. You live near me, don't you?"

"I'm right behind you. Remember the fun time we had catching newts? And playing Pirates and Book Tag?"

Hermione smiled and nodded, remembering memories just over five years old, and yet several lifetimes away. She remembered the thickly be-spectacled, freckled, and braces-wearing boy of the past, and decided that the five years had changed Joshua nearly as much as Hermione.

"Ready to go, Viktor?" she called. He stopped staring at a quid and moved over to Hermione and Joshua.

"It vos very tasty, thank you," said Viktor politely, and he shook Joshua's hand too. He then made for the exit, and Hermione shot one last glance at Joshua. The waiter raised his eyebrows at Hermione, who just made the phone symbol to the side of her face and then followed the Bulgarian outside.

They shaded their eyes to the sunshine and waited a minute to adjust to the light. Soon, they began walking to Beachcove, where they could dip their sore feet into the water. When they arrived at the beach, the sun was beginning to dip into the western part of the sky. In silence, they removed their shoes, Viktor required some assistance from Hermione, and stood knee deep in the water. The surprisingly few tourists began to move out of the water and off the beaches, back to their cars and rental houses. When Hermione's watch read four-thirty, there were so few people around that Viktor stealthily took his wand out of his pocket and pointed it at Hermione's feet. 

"Oh, no, you don't!" squealed Hermione, but Viktor just smiled the bright smile again.

"_Puellam Leffiosa_," he whispered, and Hermione rose up just high enough to clear the water. She tried to look disapprovingly at him, but the feeling of the frothy water tickling her soles was too weird. She looked around for any Muggle onlookers, but the old ladies sunning themselves fifty metres away were paying them no attention, and the sea-fishers even further away were concerned with other things.

"_Aqua Firma," _said Viktor, and suddenly the water Hermione's toes were being sprayed with turned as solid as stone, while still being as flexible and fluid as normal seawater. She stood on the water, and felt herself being carried in and out by the lolling ripples. Viktor joined her, and she watched in amusement as Viktor tried to keep his balance on the bigger waves. Finally, one knocked Hermione over, and as she fought to regain her balance, Viktor smiled mischievously, took out his wand, and said, "_Finite Incantatem!_" loudly.

Instantly, Hermione feel through the suddenly yielding and very wet substance. She felt her arm and leg hit sandy bottom, and a wave completely soak her back. "Gah!" she shouted, half-irritated and half-laughing.

Viktor was up on the beach, the water just reaching his toes, guffawing hysterically. Hermione made a face at him and stood up, feeling salt water and sand dripping all over her body. 

"Oh, very funny, Mr. Krum," said Hermione, walking up to him slowly. "I just might report you to the Misuse of Magic office."

"Oh yeah? Vere? In England or Bulgaria?" he answered, sniggering at his wet and sandy protestor. 

"That'd by Bulgaria, mister. Which is located this way," replied Hermione, walking up to him and trying to stare him straight in the eye, but dissolving into little giggles at the situation. When Viktor gave her a haughty, teasing look, Hermione countered by grabbing his left arm and tossing him into the surf.

"Bruise, bruise, blubbff!" he shouted, getting a mouthful of seawater.

"Eh, you deserve it," remarked Hermione, watching him getting even wetter and sandier than her and trying to maintain his dignity. Finally, he got control and rolled onto the beach by Hermione's feet, riding a big wave. She was at first concerned when he began coughing up seawater, but when he turned and spat rather expertly onto her ankle, she shrieked and picked up a handful of wet sand, ready to launch an arsenal.

"Oh, Glinda!" came a singsong voice some metres behind them. Hermione spun around and innocently dropped the sand splat as Viktor stood up quickly. Antigone, looking extremely out of place on the beach in her tight black pants and tall boots, was walking over to them with a look of puzzled amusement on her face.

Hermione looked down at her watch: barely past five. "We aren't late for supper, are we?" she asked, confused.

"No," replied Antigone slowly, looking from Hermione to Viktor and back carefully. "I was just picking up some things for the Carnac trip when I decided to take a last look at the beach before I go. And then I find you. Please tell me you guys were just horsing around?"

Hermione, looking at Viktor and their sodden, messy clothes, suddenly realised how horrible the scene looked. "Antigone, I swear, we were just pushing each other around. Nothing more." Antigone looked rather disbelieving, but not entirely unconvinced, so Hermione added, "I swear. Please, please don't tell Mum and Dad, please! They'll never let me out of the house again!"

The older girl looked again between Hermione and Viktor. "Okay, I won't say a thing. C'mon, I'll drive you guys back home." Hermione and Viktor sighed in relief as they picked up their shows and followed Antigone back to her car. "But," she warned, with one hand on the bonnet and the other on the roof, "I'm not going to make up something about your appearances. You've been warned, okay?"

Hermione nodded glumly, but Viktor had that spark in his eyes again. She watched him expectantly as he sat down next to her, and stifled a laugh as he took the wand out of his pocket and did a quick cleaning spell. Antigone's engine stalled for a brief second, but when it started up again she could find nothing odd in the car but two clean teenagers grinning like idiots.

+X+

Dinner that night was Mrs. Granger's famous boiled chicken, plus some simple vegetable dishes. Mrs. Granger was sure that Viktor was craving Bulgarian foods, and explained to him, through his protests that he actually liked foreign foods, that she simply didn't have enough time to perfect a dish. Hermione and Viktor kept making funny faces at each other, especially though Mr. Granger's description of his afternoon at work. The most interesting thing he had done that day was remove a stubborn molar, and Hermione's familiarity with the process made her want to fall asleep in the Brussels sprouts.

Finally, after an afters of lemon ice cream, Mr. and Mrs. Granger went to busy themselves in the kitchen cleanup, and Antigone left for a leaving party at her friend Claire's house. Hermione led Viktor down the hill of her garden, which levelled out for a metre or two before ending in a small thicket and tiny creek. This was her private place, her thinking place, and after their fun craziness at the beach, Hermione felt comfortable bringing Viktor to the special space. 

She flopped down in the fresh-cut grass, watching the red streaks in the western sky fade, and the stars appear one by one in the east. Viktor sat next to her, saying nothing and looking above with her. When the whole sky began to turn blue-black, he reached out and took her hand again. Hermione was extremely pleased to find this connection now comfortable, perhaps even natural. Apparently, her unconsciousness had kicked itself into gear. She gave his dark hand a gentle squeeze with her light one and rolled onto her side to face him. 

Before either of them even knew what was happened, they began kissing. Hermione felt herself turn bright red, but Viktor didn't notice and Hermione didn't care – this just felt so right, so natural. Viktor put one hand on her waist as she put hers on his shoulder, and with great care, they kissed deeply for minutes at a time. Finally, just when Hermione felt she might explode from the powerful sensation of kissing Viktor, he pulled away forcefully and sat up.

"What is it?" whispered Hermione, looking around for the cause of the interruption. Viktor shook his head and ran his fingers through his black hair.

"You are a vonderful person, Hermy-ne. And kissing you is unlike any others." Hot acid churned in Hermione's stomach. She wasn't his first! "Effen now, I haff to be getting back to Falmouth, and then I'll be in Bulgaria." He paused and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Hermy-ne, but we're just not going to vork out. Can ve still be friends?"

Hermione stared at him, as shocked as he was earlier when Antigone had opened the door. "What?" she demanded sharply. "You're breaking up with me, just like that?"

"Hermy-ne," replied Viktor calmly, "ve never really vere a couple, or 'going out', or hovever you say it. I'm sorry, but I just can't date a girl so far away, vat vith Quidditch and such. I just vanted to tell you before ve, you know, got serious."

"Oh, so this whole day's just been a big joke to you, huh, Mr. Popularity?" snapped Hermione. "I guess I'm not good enough for a Bulgarian star! I'm tarnishing your corona! O woe!"

"Hermy-ne," Viktor pleaded. "Ve can still be friends."

She glared at him. "I'm not about to burn bridges, but I'm extremely mad at you. I suggest you Apparate out of here before I start seriously breaking some underage wizarding laws."

Viktor looked like he was about to say something, but decided against it, and Disapparated with a hollow pop. Hermione looked at the spot where he last was, muttered something about splinching, and started climbing the hill to her house.

On the other side of the creek, through a few leafy tree branches, Joshua Clarks stood. Where a look of Muggle confusion and panic should have been on his face, there was only one of understanding – and even, perhaps, a little smile.

+X+

Dear Harry,

I've managed somehow to have one of the best days of my life, followed by one of the worst nights ever. I feel so stupid now. To sum things up, he and I walked around town, ate lunch at a pizzeria – which I paid for, only making it worse – and had a really fun time playing at the beach. Viktor and I had such a connection – or so I thought. 

After dinner, we went down to my favourite place in the garden. So then, after kissing me, which was definitely the highlight of the date, he tells me that he can't date a girl that lives so far away. After all I'd done for him that day! The nerve of him! Harry, promise me now that if you ever become a Quidditch star, you never get haughty, especially to girls that you've told are wonderful people. 

I'm just so mad right now. I wish I had someone to talk to face to face, but Antigone's in France, Mum's at work, Crookshanks isn't responding, and I don't have any friends in town. Oh well, I guess I'll just work on my Potions essay – another thing to hate. 

Please write me back and tell me I'm not insane!

Sincerely,

Hermione Granger

P.S. Why did you tell Ron?


	4. The Newt

Dear Hermione,

That Krum better be thanking his lucky stars that I'm not in Bulgaria, or else he would in several bits right now. I can't believe he did that to you, Glinda, but it sounds like you handled the situation pretty well. I'm sorry things didn't work out, but sometimes they happen for a reason, you know? Argh, even trying to put a bright face on this makes me mad. _Ce Krum est un débile egoïste salaud._

Anyway, moving on. Brittany is beautiful. Denise hasn't been getting on so well after she ate a funny _escargot_, but Claire and I have been all over the Carnac area. These stone avenues I was telling you about are even more amazing in person! Yesterday we drove to Locmariaquer and saw the _Er Grah_, the Faery Stone. It's more than twenty metres long, and before an earthquake a few centuries ago, it stood upright. Brilliant!

Well, I have to go. Quoting Dad, "keep a stiff upper lip" and don't let this bloke get to you.

Love,

Antigone

+X+

Hermione stared blearily at the parchment, the quill feeling uncomfortable in her sore hand. She was already three inches over the ridiculous requirement on her Potions essay and she hadn't even mentioned the draughts made from the moly. As she started a brief paragraph on the plant's magical properties, she began to hear one of Antigone's songs getting stuck in her bonce. It was especially annoying because Hermione only knew half of the tune, and even less of the words. Irritated by the invisible distraction, she tried to sing it out of her system. "Keeping a brave face in circumstances is impossible…," she mumbled, trying to remember if moly roots were black and the flower white, or the other way around. 

"It's tragic…laid down on your side, too easy in the dark…you're soaking wet in my head…." Instantly, Hermione was reminded of the time with Krum and regretted singing it out loud.

She blinked and refocused on the parchment, and noticed that her last lines were sloppy and out of alignment. Sighing, she replaced the cap on her inkbottle, rested the quill on top of the essay, and took a deep stretch in the chair. She looked through her open window, at the flowerbeds on the edge of the garden, and was just considering taking a stroll outside, when an odd but strangely familiar sound filled the house: the ringing of the blower.

Hermione had to think for a second where the nearest was located. She so rarely used one at home and, obviously, never at school, that she wondered how she had left Joshua a few days ago with the gesture requesting a call. She remembered Antigone having an extension in her room, and rushed in and hurriedly picked up the black cordless beneath the Circe poster before the telemachine picked up the connection. 

"Hello?" she asked into the blower tentatively.

"Hi, this is Joshua Clarks. Is Hermione there?"

"Speaking."

"Hey! How are you doing?"

Hermione scowled at the phone but smiled inside.

"Quite well, considering I was just dumped by a rising Bulgarian Quidditch star," she said irritably. Suddenly, her stomach fell magnificently and she clapped her hand to her mouth. Joshua was a Muggle! She turned bright red and tried to avoid Circe's piercing eyes.

"A _what_ star?" came the reply from the other end.

"Bulgarian. That fellow I had lunch with," answered Hermione, gritting her teeth and desperately wishing she could Disapparate. "Never mind me, how are you?"

"I'm fine, as usual. You sure you're okay, Hermione? You sound…majorly stressed."

"Just an essay for holidays."

"You go to a tough school?"

"Yes," she responded, desperately trying to get his focus off her.

"Yeah, St. Petroc's isn't exactly a stroll in the park, but at least I didn't get a lot of work. What's the name of your school?"

"St....Margaret's." It was the name of Antigone's secondary school, and Hermione was starting to sweat.

"Where'd you meet that Romanian chap?"

"Bulgarian. Um...at school. Can we not talk about him right now? I was sort of doing the essay to not think about him."

"Oh, of course." There was a silence on the other side of the connection, and then a little laugh. "You know, dating Eastern European guys you meet at an _all-girls_ school is really just setting yourself up for disaster."

Hermione flopped onto Antigone's bed. 

"Gneh, Joshua," she said feebly.

"Don't worry, Hermione. I don't care where you met the slug. If he was stupid enough to dump you, I don't want to talk about him. So, how have you been? What's new, in the past couple years?"

She drifted out of Antigone's room, tactfully informing Joshua about her female classmates and professors while avoiding anything even remotely magical. It made for a very short and very boring summation of four years. "And you?" she finished.

"Oh, boy. Not anything, not anything at all. I finally got the teeth straightened, and Mum finally let me wear contacts. I go to this little tiny boy's secondary on the other side of Devon, and get pretty good marks, and I've got some friends, and I play rugby, but really, that's it." He stopped for a second, and then added, "We sure don't sound like the lives of the party, do we?"

Hermione laughed, her first real bit of sunshine since the dreary clouds of Krum. "Joshua, it doesn't sound like you've changed one bit on the inside."

"You have, somehow, but I can't put my finger on it."

"If you only knew," thought Hermione.

"Do you think you can break away from your essay long enough to pay a visit to your dear old mate?"

She was at her desk again, looking out the window towards the shrubbery that separated his and her gardens. 

"Sure, why not? I'll see you down at the creek."

+X+

"Look, a newt!" Joshua jumped into the shrunken creek, dramatically chasing a small, slimy amphibian as if it were made of gold. The newt waddled with amazing speed into a small hole in the stream bank and Joshua gazed after it with a hugely fake hurt expression. He crossed his arms and with a big lower lip he turned back to Hermione. "He doesn't like me!" he wailed.

"With a face like yours, who could?" Hermione grinned.

"Ah! My heart! A hit below the belt, for sure." He climbed up the embankment and emerged on Hermione's side, trainers coated in mud.

"Your Mum's going to kill you." Hermione pointed to his feet.

"Nah, these are my old rugby shoes. To tell you the truth," he added, looking at their new clay-brown coloration, "I think it's an improvement."

Joshua's newt extended a careful neck out its burrow and, seeing no brown-haired, unruly teenage boys hopping about, cautiously emerged.

"Your friend is back," announced Hermione, pointing at the amphibian.

"'She turned me into a newt!' 'A newt?' '...I got better!'" Joshua mimicked some sort of movie or television programme Hermione could only vaguely recall. He looked at her, waiting for her to laugh, but she just shrugged. "Aw, c'mon! You remember 'Holy Grail'? 'A witch! A witch! We have found a witch, might we burn her?'"

Hermione turned red again, hoping he wouldn't notice, and forced a laugh. It struck her again that Joshua was just a Muggle, and to him, witches were funnily dressed people from folklore centuries ago. "Yes, of course. Monty Python." 

"Classic stuff. Course, Dad thinks its rubbish, but he's a pet shop owner, so what does he know. There's a lot of stuff about pet shops in Flying Circus, you know. Like the fish license thing, and the dead parrot sketch –"

"-'He's not pining, he's passed on!'" Hermione suddenly remembered.

"I knew you didn't forget it!" Joshua broke into a huge smile. "Remember when we'd watch the videos in our cellar whenever our parents weren't home?"

"Oh, how couldn't I?" She recalled walking home from school with Joshua, and on all but the rainiest days, they would be in his house watching the old classic movies and programmes that they adored but their parents thought too "mature". Then, at ten to four, they would quickly clean up whatever messes they had made eating snacks in front of the telly, and Hermione would race home and start her schoolwork just as her mum came through the door. A whole other world away...all this before that letter had arrived on the doorstep one fine summer day, quite like the one they were experiencing then.

"So, what are you doing this summer?"

"Nothing, really. I went to France all last summer and I never really got a chance to 'decompress' from H- school. So this year I'm pretty much staying home." She mentally slapped herself for nearly saying "Hogwarts". "And you?"

Joshua shrugged. "I'm going to a rugby camp in August, but I still have all of July to do nothing. That's what summers are made for, huh?"

"Just as long as you aren't doing nothing in autumn, it's all right." There was a little beat of silence, in which they watched the newt go upstream in search of food.

"Hermione!" Her mum's voice drifted through the garden and down to the creek where she and Joshua stood. Hermione looked at her wristwatch and saw it was time to wash up. 

"I have to go," she said to Joshua. 

"No problem." He smiled and jumped to his side of the creek. "I'll see you around!"

"See you." Hermione waved to him, and then made her way through the foliage and up the hill to her back door. Suddenly, there came a terrific splash, and through the shrubbery, she saw Joshua jump up from the creek bed. He emerged in her garden, his front slick with mud, and his hands caged and raised triumphantly. 

"I got the newt!" he shouted.

"You're a loony," answered Hermione, shaking her head and smiling.

"I am not a loony! Why should I be tied with the epithet 'loony' merely because I have captured a newt? I've heard tell that Sir Gerald Nebardo has a pet prawn, called Simon. Furthermore, Dawn Palethorpe, the lady show jumper, had a clam called Stafford...."

Hermione closed the door behind her, laughing both at and with the muddy boy in her garden.

+X+

Dear Tiggy,

I'm glad to know things are going so well. Tell Denise to get better soon! I can't find anything about those stone avenues in my books – you know which ones I'm talking about – so even _I_ wonder just what they're there for. I sort of miss France, but I haven't been home for so long in so long (hmm, rather poetic) that it's like a five-star vacation. 

Just one complaint - when will Mum stop experimenting with the vegetables? If I have to eat one more aubergine-asparagus dish, I might see it a second time if you know what I mean. At least you're eating blueberry crepes, my favorite. I'd ask for some bouillabaisse, but I don't know how well it keeps, and I can imagine it would be very gross if it goes bad.

Do you remember Joshua Clarks, the bloke behind us I used to spend all the time with? He and I have been seeing each other a lot recently. He's still a nutter, but he sure is funny! It's hard to tell at this point, but I think...hmm, I think I might be the littlest bit _interested_ in him, if you know what I mean. Basically, the years have been good to him! Is this a rebound thing? I hate to say it, but I have really no idea what I'm getting into whenever I start thinking about boys. 

Well, not wanting to keep you from your vacation, I'll talk to you later. Thanks for being here on paper.

Love,

Glinda


End file.
